by Holly Fletcher

it’s not bold to say I went swimming/ it was more that the weather pushed me out into the harbour/ crabs and old railway lines lurked underneath the surface/ I was ok if my feet didn't touch the ground/ pausing quickly over patches of sand / my words blurred out tensions to the shore/  I swam out further to weep a little/ the ocean evaporating onto my skin/ the salt waiting on me like a giant impatient waitress/

at your house tonight/ I stepped out onto the front steps and watched the sun disappear/ the hills blushed at such a brilliant departure / the voices within the windows were laughing and excited by liquor/ the record skipped with dementia /      Keep listening/ keep listening/   fire in my brain    / the feelings   / the   / the    / the   /    it’s soo cold out there

I swelled up like a current / uncertain / cold-warm and dangerous / this surface is only for a little while / you’re gone if you don’t reckon right.